The Beginning
by ThereIsOnlyZuul
Summary: This is the story of the origin of the zombies and one person's ingenious survival plan.


A piece I wrote a while ago. Some observant fanfic readers will probably recognize this story and accuse me of stealing it, but I assure you this is my original work. I had to close my last account because of some complications and I had posted this story there so if you recognize it, that's where it's from. I repeat, THIS IS MY WORK.

Anyways, now that that lengthy disclaimer is done with this is a Plants vs. Zombies story that I hope everyone enjoys!

Cheers :)

* * *

My garden was once a peaceful place. Flowerbeds of lovely sunflowers that seemed to dance in the breeze and marigolds that were worth their weight in gold. There was a quaint vegetable patch with watermelons and potatoes and tall, ever expanding vines of peas. There was a cherry tree that provided shade and had such ripe cherries they looked nearly ready to burst. In a tiny, homemade green house I grew flowerpots full of strange things like star fruit and cacti and Venus flytraps. The flytraps were my favourite because they appeared to smile as their dinner approached. I even had a modest little pond that had lily pads and cattails and although the tangle weeds sometimes got out of control, it was still beautiful.

But all too soon, as that is how the world works, my little piece of paradise was uprooted.

It all happened one quiet Sunday morning while I was cutting the grass. The cemetery across the street from me became dark and the atmosphere suddenly became thick and un-breathable. I switched off my lawn mower to watch in curiosity. What happened next I don't think I'll ever be able to explain. The sewers in the street oozed green goo, lightning struck, and to my disbelief, hands began to reach out of the earth. Every gravestone trembled as their occupants crawled out from beneath the soil and grass. As this is not something you see everyday, I couldn't look away. As I heard screams from other houses and the squealing tires of cars, and sirens blaring from near and far, I could do nothing but lean against my lawn mower and gape.

As the final graves were vacated, I finally seemed to come to the conclusion that the rest of the neighbourhood, city, country, and possibly world had come to: zombies. I was watching the birth of the undead.

"Perhaps they're friendly," I pondered as I took a step towards the side walk. "Just because they're dead doesn't mean that they can't be civilized…"

I never finished that thought. As I reached the end of my lawn and stepped onto the sidewalk, the zombies, as a collective group, turned to look at me.

"Brains!" they exclaimed with a creaking step forwards. "Brains!"

Their tattered clothes hung off of their rotten bodies as they began to shamble towards me. They _were _evil and uncivilized and I supposed that made them hostile. I began to stumble backwards as they shambled forward.

Another creaking step.

I didn't own any guns - I wouldn't know how to use one even if I did.

Another creaking step.

I didn't have anywhere to run to except my tiny house and I felt like a hoard of these foul creatures might be able to break down my flimsy screen door.

Another creaking step. They were nearly to the road. Another three metres and they would be at my property line!

"Brains!"

I was completely on my own. I was going to become part of this shambling mass of flesh eating zombies and there was nothing I could do: there was nobody in the world that could help me.

That was when I tripped over my lawn mower and had the brilliant idea that has assured my place in the history books as one of the greatest defensive strategists of all time. There might not have been any _person _who could help me, but my garden surely would! With all the love and care I had provided to my wonderful plants, how could they refuse?

Another creaking step. Nearly to the road now. I had to work quickly.

With some very quick footwork, and some even faster shovel work, I had places enough to plant myself an entire infrontry. Dashing back and forth between my front and back gardens I lined my lawn with what most people would think of as just normal plants; but I, of course, knew better.

My peas became 'pea shooters', my watermelons became 'melon-pults', my potatoes became 'potato landmines', my cherries became 'cherry bombs'. My lovely little pond became an undead death trap as the tangle weeds dragged any unfortunate trespassers to the bottom, and now I know for sure that my Venus flytraps are smiling as they snap and chew zombies who intrude on my lawn.

And so my new life began, consisting fully of: plant, defend, replant the eaten and trampled, defend, plant, replant, re-replant, etcetera.

Sometimes I think that this isn't a permanent solution because I know that as more and more people become zombies my lawn is under more and more stress. For now though, I'm surviving, and although my garden is no longer peaceful, I believe it becomes lovelier everyday.


End file.
